Ah, Young and Criminal Love
by Cartega
Summary: *Sequel to Miniaturized* The pint sized con girl is back with another scheme in mind. Again, she needs Neal's help to infiltrate a school to steal a famous painting. When she realizes she has competition with another kid con artist, things get complicated. Will Neal choose to do the right thing? What is the right thing?
1. An Unexpected Business Meeting

**Greetings my friends! Yes at long last I'm returning to White Collar. This time my fic will be a bit different than the last. It will be in the perspective of my OC, Felicity Caidmen. It's also in the very beginning of Season 3 (which for the purpose of this fanfiction is around September) . He has the treasure and all that junk. If you don't know about Felicity, you should read my story Miniaturized. **

**For those who have read Miniaturized and are going, "Yeah, Yeah. Just start the story…" This is for you. Felicity's theme song is "I Just Wanna Run" by The Downtown Fiction. It's perfect for her. That's the song she is listening to in this chapter! You should listen to it as you read. Enjoy!**

I plopped down at a bench in Central Park, the newest version of the Ipod in hand, listening to my new favorite song. It was really catchy and like all artists, I love music that makes me think and reflects my life. This one did, it was kind of scary how much it could. I got jolted out of my thoughts when I saw a man walk past me nonchalantly. He was dressed in a tailored suit and a fedora. That was what caught my eye.

"Neal," I called as he passed by. He stopped in his track, looking a little guilty.

"Felicity! What a surprise," he tried to pull the innocent card, so predictable.

"Caffrey, sit. This is the third time I've seen you pass me."

He sat, showing signs of agitation. I realized how bossy I can be sometimes. People like Caffrey and me don't take orders. It doesn't help I'm fifteen. A regular thirty something guy doesn't take orders from a teen.

"What are you up to?" Neal Caffrey asked. He was a con man, maybe he still is. He's working with the feds to solve cases right now. Neal has to wear a tracking anklet, but cons don't like to be restrained. I've heard whispers of a certain treasure he may or may not have acquired. Maybe he'll run. Hopefully, by the end of this little meeting I'll find out.

"You know, laying low. I've been taking a break from the job since our escapade a couple months ago," I replied. The escapade included catching a seriously bad criminal (and considering my sense of morals, that's extremely evil), recovering a million dollar bracelet and me almost getting caught and being put in foster care.

"You're not up to anything? No plotting?" the blue eyed con asked suspiciously.

"Please, Neal. Can't a girl yearn for normality?" I said, trying to sell the lie. If I yearned for normality, I would turn myself in. I was having a blast being independent. Normal is an antonym for me and something I will never yearn for.

Neal knew me too well, he laughed, "Since when have you ever 'yearned for normality'? If you did, I'm sure you wouldn't be using that kind of talk. You've changed in the last couple of months."

He was right, I had. I'd grown up considerably. Instead of the Nike/Athletic look (which I rocked, in case you're wondering) I was wearing things more professional and classy. At the moment I was going for a more casual look than lately. Designer jeans and a navy quarter length sleeved white top. Now, for me that's like crazy dressed up for casual. I was also wearing a white fedora with a black ribbon around it. Ever since I've trusted Neal , I had just felt the need to be more professional. That included my speech. I shuddered at the memory of saying "Well, duh" every opportunity I had. I think I'm in my late twenties in a fifteen year old's body now.

"Oh, fine. I'll tell you what I'm planning. But first we've got to make something clear. Stop following me, or 'checking up on me'. Got it?" I tried to sound as annoyed as possible. Frankly, I wasn't as half as annoyed as I sounded. At least I had _someone_ who's looking out for me. It was irritating though. I don't need someone babysitting me. I've been alone for almost 3 years now.

"Listen Caidmen, if something happened to you… I'd be guilty."

"Yeah? Well, don't be," I say huffily.

"But what if you get in trouble?" He said it as if he were my dad or something.

"Oh, no! She's sitting on a park bench listening to her Ipod!" I said sarcastically.

"Alright, I'll lay off. So, what's this plan?"

I got really excited, being alone can sometimes get, well… lonely. I can finally tell someone my wicked cool heist plan. Apparently, I got too excited and didn't know where to start so I started my explanation with the lamest part, "I'm going back to school!"

He looked really surprised and confused, "That's what you're plotting? School?" Neal said it skeptically.

"Not any school," I said, recovering, "Fiorella H. LaGuardia High School of Music of Music and Arts and Performing Arts."

"That's a mouthful," he noted.

"Yes, let's just call it LaGuardia. It's what's at the school that I care about. Ever heard of Paul Désiré Trouillebert?" I asked Neal. Knowing him, he's more than heard of him. He's probably stolen some of his pieces for all I know.

"Trouillebert? Wasn't he a forger?"

"Very good, Neal. He was a Barbizon painter ,but he also was a copyist and imitator of Corot. When he was first exposed to Corot's work, Trouillebert took a very keen interest in it and immersed himself in emulating his techniques. He was so similar to Corot that if his signatures were erased and Corots forged added, enormous value was added to the work. The Corot fakes issue was compounded by Camile Corot himself, as he signed many reproduced works by other artists when asked simply because he felt honored to be copied," Most people don't know this, but I have a photographic memory, pretty useful in situations like these. I can recite things when I see them on the internet or books.

Neal looked impressed, "Someone did their homework."

I nodded and continued, "Well, his piece, _Landscape _is going to have a private viewing. Can you believe it, Caffrey? At a school! It's just screaming my name, 'Felicity! Come steal me!'".

"It sounds pretty hard to get into," Neal said doubtfully.

"Oh, I'm already accepted. There's just one thing left," I say, batting my eyelashes.

Caffrey didn't like that, "What?" he asked in a tone of suspicion.

"Parent and Student meeting with the principal," I said hopefully.

"You need me?"

"Yes, you. I can't believe I'm saying this, please?"

If I could be in his thought process this is what he'd be thinking, "What about Peter? How would I get away? Would this benefit me? She's my friend, I could do it just to help her out… But what about Peter? Once the painting is stolen we'll probably be on the case and I'd be a part of it, which means I'd be a part of it…" Basically, a good FBI consultant versus the bad con man battle.

Thankfully, the rebellious streak in him was still alive and kicking. Caffrey did his famous million dollar smile, "What do I need to do?"

"Sweet," in my excitement , I forgot talking older, "I've got all the papers ready all you have to do is act like a loving father who just wants the best for his protégé of a daughter."

"Protégé? Isn't that stretching it a bit?" Neal said teasingly.

"Shut up, Caffrey. All you have to do is meet me at LaGuardia at 9 for the meeting. Think you can handle that?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

"How am I supposed to get off my anklet?" A genuine question from the con who thinks he's one of the greats.

"Oh, come on, Caffrey. Impress me, I know you can do it. How are you going to escape with that hefty sum of treasure? Make this your practice round," I tried to cut all the curiosity out of my speech that was in my head.

"How do you know about that?" Neal looked scared, glancing around nervously.

"You keep tabs on me, I keep tabs on you," I reasoned, "You won't tell the FBI about my plans, I won't tell them yours, deal?"

He relaxed, just a bit, "Alright, Caidmen. You've got a deal."

I smiled in victory. Felicity Caidmen, fifteen year old millionaire, genius, and criminal mastermind was back.

* * *

**A/N: Hey! Review! That means you, yeah you! I see you leaving this story without writing a quick feedback! Don't do it. Peter will knock on your door. He'll travel all the way to wherever you are and tell you to go write a review RIGHT NOW. Listen to special agent Peter Burke and Cartega. I have that effect on people. SERIOUSLY, JUST WRITE ONE. ~Cartega**


	2. LaGuardia

**Hey guys! I'm impatient so I'm uploading the second chapter. BOOM. OK, read- now :)**

"Daddy!" I cried as I saw Neal turn the corner of the street. I ran to him and hugged the surprised con artist.

"Is this really necessary?" Neal asked.

"Get into character, Caffrey."

"By the way, who am I?"

"Richard Westbrook, a retired art restorer who has an impressive private collection. You have a very talented daughter that you want the best for. You've searched for a school that would help her develop her artistic talents."

"And that talented daughter is you?"

"Do I have to say it? Well, duh." I used my old catchphrase, "Cecilia Westbrook will be going into all Honor classes with extra courses in painting."

"Are you sure you want to do Honor classes?" Neal asked warningly.

"If I'm going to do it, I'm going to go all out," I grinned.

"You haven't been in school in two years. It's going to be a lot of work."

"How hard can it be? Besides, if the kids I see on the streets today can do it, I'm pretty sure that I can handle it," I shrugged, I was probably the youngest self- made millionaire, school can't be that hard.

"What math are you taking? Algebra 2?" I nodded, so Neal continued, "Good luck on your own. If you need a tutor, well, you know where I live."

I got a sinking feeling in my stomachache, "I just realized. I'm going to have homework again!" Neal laughed really hard, "It is not funny! The last time I had to do that was in seventh grade. Do you realize how much harder tenth grade will be than seventh?"

"I actually do realize. I went to school like a normal kid," Neal replied.

I snorted, "I doubt you were ever a normal kid, Neal."

"You're right, Miss 'Yearning for Normality'."

"Oh, shut up," I said. We arrived at LaGuardia.

"Alright, Ceci, are you nervous?" Neal said.

"Ceci?" I asked, seriously? "Ceci"?

"You should go by it. Normal kids don't really have dramatic names like 'Cecilia Westbrook'. It sounds like it came from a novel. It will give you a more fun and care free appearance."

"It may or may not have been from a novel, thank you very much. But, I will take your advice and use 'Ceci'," Felicity shuddered, "This normal teen thing is not working for me." I looked down at my paint splattered flare jeans and top from Aeropostale.

"You're doing a great job; you should do it more often." Neal answered.

I scoffed, "Listen, Richard Westbrook, just do the interview and let me do my work."

"That's no way to talk to your father!" Neal grinned teasingly.

"Let's go Daddy," I said with a sugary sweet tone.

Neal opened the door to the Headmaster's office and I followed Caffrey in.

"Good afternoon," the headmaster said politely.

"Hello, Dr. Joslin. My name is Richard Westbrook. This is my daughter, Cecilia."

"Dad, you know I go by Ceci," I said with annoyance. Not the annoyance that the headmaster thought. It was annoyance that Neal was right. It was better for my cover to be called that ridiculous shortening of a poetic name.

"Sorry, dear," Neal continued, "So, what do you need to know?" He was playing his part really well, maybe some of the money I get for the painting will go to him. Maybe.

"We just need her transcripts and all that paperwork," Dr. Joslin said with a smile.

"Ceci?" Neal said. I pulled out of her jacket pocket an envelope with all the papers needed, forged, obviously.

"Excellent. Well, we are very excited for Ms. Westbrook to be attending our school. She's an exceptional student and judging by her audition, a wonderful artist."

"Thank you, I gave her lessons myself, you know." Neal smiled at me. I masked my annoyance by plastering a smile on. This should be fun…

"Oh, it was not all gumdrops and butterflies, you know. He held me to quite a standard. This," I started to point at a long scar on her arm, "Is from when I…"

"Ahaha," Neal interrupted, hushing me with his hand, "Kids these days."

The headmaster looked a bit confused, "Well, anyways, how did you hear about us?"

"I've been searching for a quality school for my beloved child to develop her artistic abilities."

"There's only so much my father can do, you see," I smiled sweetly.

The headmaster did not reply, but studied father and daughter. They were an odd combination, but artists will be artists, he reasoned.

"I have an engagement soon, is there anything else you'll need?" Richard questioned.

"We'll mail you all the school information in a few weeks," Dr. Joslin concluded.

"Thank you so much, Dr. Joslin," I, now officially Ceci, said.

"Let's go, Cecilia."

"Ceci!" I insisted as they exited the office. There was another family waiting. I had been reading up on my psychology and decided to try to do an evaluation. It was a father and son. No wedding ring on the father, so single parent. They were clearly related. The son, he looked around my age, had short blonde hair with a little spike in the front. He had green eyes, just like his fathers. His body language was relaxed, confident. He had one sign of nervousness, though. His fist was clenched loosely at his side. He glanced up quickly when Neal and I left the office. They both seemed to have recognized Neal. The boy had caught me looking. He smiled at me. I awkwardly gave him a half smile and walked out of the office.

"He was handsome," Neal noted once they were out of ear shot.

"What? Well, I guess." I said, blushing in spite of myself.

"Do you have a crush?" Neal asked, trying to conceal a grin.

"Don't be daft. I saw the guy for a couple seconds."

"That's what they all say," Neal couldn't hide it any longer. He smiled broadly.

"Shut up!" I said, blushing further. Neal knowing I actually did normal kid things like crushing was not Ok with me. I couldn't be a normal teen. I saw him for a couple of seconds, no big deal.

Sure enough, he had to say something, "Welcome back to being a normal kid."

"Yeah right, Neal. Me, a normal kid… Now that's a joke worth sharing at a party," I forced a laugh.

"For a con artist, you really are a terrible liar."

I didn't reply right away, "This isn't the kind of stuff I usually lie about. Give me a couple of days, and I'll be the best child pathological liar that lived, if I want to be."

"Tell me when the PTA meetings start," Neal joked as he headed home.

"Oh, ha-ha, that almost made me laugh." I said, not being able to find a better response quickly enough. First, I was joining school and now I'm not thinking of comebacks. What is the world coming to?

* * *

**A/N: Hey, you! Yes, you! I see you, you didn't review the first chapter and now you think Peter and I will let you off easy. Think again! You better review at least one of the chapters. Remember, if Peter can catch Neal, he can catch you. I really like feedback so if i get enough I won't threaten you with Peter. Me and him are like this (imagine me crossing my middle and pointer finger). You really should review, though :)**


	3. Trustworthiness and Troubles

I trust Neal, don't get me wrong. But, last time, he gave my address to the FBI last time- and I really liked that place. I had to move out because of him, and he's still not sure if he should tell Peter about where I am. I get his indecision. A fifteen year old alone on the streets on your conscience is something I wouldn't want if I was Neal. So, I just had to follow him and see if he set me up.

Neal was taking his usual route to the FBI. Yeah, I know his patterns. Can you blame me? He's the only one that... cares, I guess. But, I don't want him to. Right? I'm Felicity Caidmen! I don't need anyone. Peter met him halfway there with coffee. This was the trickiest part. Getting close enough to hear the conversation without getting spotted. Neal always had an eye out for listeners, and Peter could tell if you made a wrong move. They stopped in front of a clothing store. Perfect, it's not odd for a teenage girl to walk near a store. Lowering my hat a bit, I walked right past them.

"How was June's granddaughter?" Peter asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice. I got tense, Neal was hesitating on what to say. If he sold me out, I would have to abandon the whole con. I had months of preparation and planning behind this. Not only would the opportunity be gone, my trust with the charming con would be gone. So would his escape plan for that matter. I'd have to risk a meeting with Peter, but if I play my cards right, I'll be able to make a smooth getaway. Thankfully, all my worrying was for nothing because Neal did the right thing (for me anyways).

"It was great, she is such a sweet little thing, Peter."

"Well, I'm glad you had a good time. Guess what you missed because of it, though," the suit tried to hide his smile.

Neal sighed, "Paperwork."

"And lots of it," Peter added with relish. I had heard enough, Neal still had my trust and the con was not in danger.

_**2 Weeks Later **_

I woke up at 7:00 am for my first day of school. As I was trying to be fully awake, I remembered when I used to do this regularly. My dad would wake me up each morning for school, and after getting ready and eating a delicious breakfast made by mom, I would ride the bus to school and start my average day of life as a normal kid. I snapped out of the memory of my childhood and fast forwarded a few years to the car crash. As soon as I realized what had happened, I ran as fast as I could with my injured leg into the woods next to the highway. They're gone, dead. I won't be able to shake the memory of seeing their bodies not moving, not being able to ask if I was ok or tell me that everything was going to be alright. I blinked and got out of bed. I wiped a tear that had escaped without my realization. It's better to try and not think about the past, and just focus on what's in front of you, like cons and stealing a fake Corot piece that was worth major cash. My stomach felt a bit queasy focusing on what I was planning to do. My first big heist. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Or, maybe it's the fact that it's my first day of school for the first time in three years. In about an hour, Ceci Westbrook was ready for school. Felicity Caidmen, on the other hand, was shaking in her orange Converse high tops.

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry it's shorter than usual, but I wanted to make sure that you guys are still following the story. Please review your thoughts and what you want to find out :) Thanks so much! ~Cartega**


	4. School At Last

My school, which is really weird to say after three years of not having any kind of schooling used to have a dress code, but you just can't restrict artists. They need to be free to express their sense of style. Besides, clay, pen, and paints always stained the pricey clothing. To the delight of the students, the uniforms were dropped, and as long as everything that needed to be covered was, everything went.

I chose the paint splattered jeans I wore to the parent meeting and a cobalt blue top from Old Navy. I tied my orange Converse high tops and picked up my new Messenger bag full of school supplies. I took a long look at my flat. I knew I didn't actually have to go. There were other paintings out there. But, I ran already too much. I couldn't abandon this because I was scared like I normally did. Besides, it was a huge score. The con should have been easy for me. I was a self made millionaire, for heaven's sake.

I flipped the light switch to off and locked the regular and extra lock I installed. Even if I was in one of the most secure apartments in the city, I didn't trust them. It would have been easy for a certain special agent to be granted access to a key. Was I paranoid? Maybe a little, but I had to be ready for anything. Peter doesn't let anyone go. He obsessed over Neal. I don't even want to know how badly Burke wanted to catch me. The only thing he had on me was fingerprints and a sketch. The FBI doesn't even know my real name. They won't ever find out, thanks to Mozzie who completely erased my file making me non existent. I'm sure they'd quickly find me if he hadn't. I owe Mozzie so much, but he doesn't remember me very well, and I don't repay favors that aren't charged.

I decided I would walk to school since I couldn't exactly drive to school without raising questions. It didn't take long to get there and I stood at the doors petrified. How hard could Highschool be?

I walked in and took a look at my surroundings. The building looked like the school off of High School Musical only instead of basketball jocks everywhere there were artists. You could tell right away they were. Freshmen were by their lockers looking fidgety and nervous, the 10th graders, I shuddered to see all the girls in a circle chattering, I hated cliques when I was in seventh grade, were mingling in the hallways and talking about what they did over the summer, the Juniors looked perfectly comfortable sitting at the cafeteria tables, and the 12th graders were looking cocky and laughing at a Freshmen that just puked in his nervousness. I read a sign on the front doors that instructed transferring students to check in at the office, so that's where I headed.

There were three kids already in the office. I guess I was running a little late, because a secretary was talking rapidly and handing out papers.

"Ah, there you are Ms. Westbrook," she said, trying to appear cheerful but doing a poor job of it.

"Thanks," I said and turned red because the three students turned around to stare. I turned even more scarlet when I recognized that one of the students was the boy from the parent meeting. There was a boy beside him, a well built African American who looked like he belonged to the NFL instead of an art school. A girl was beside him, she was blonde with sparkling blue eyes. She flashed a blinding white smile and looked like she was hyped up on enough sugar to equal a six pack of Monsters.

The secretary gave me a packet full of papers for me to fill out and told us to go ahead to our lockers.

"Hi, I'm Pepper," the blonde said, practically jumping up and down.

"Hi," I replied shortly, turning quickly to get rid of her.

She didn't give up, though, "I'm going to be your guide for the day, we're in all the same classes, isn't that great?"

"Fantastic," I said in a tone to imply that it was not. To my dismay, she didn't seem to catch it.

"Our lockers are right next to each other, this year's going to be great..." Pepper rambled on about all the classes and the art class they were taking. I tuned it out until she mentioned the Trouillebert piece.

"Are you interested in that?" I asked casually.

Delighted that I actually responded, she overloaded me with information about it. I kept a mental note of it and continued to set up my locker. Two lockers away, the boy from the meeting and his guide were talking about the painting as well. It seemed odd, two new kids very interested in the same painting. Of course, it was a famous piece and it could have been my paranoia talking but I decided to keep my eye on him.

"Are the guys from the office in our classes too?" I asked Pepper, not even realizing she was still talking.

She stopped mid sentence and nodded vigorously saying, "Yeah, that's Cody Walker, he's new too, and then his guide is Macindaw. His first name is Taylor but don't call him that," she said seriously.

I laughed, "Why?"

Pepper went back to being her annoyingly bubbly self, "I like your laugh, it's nice, and he has some anger issues. His best sculptures are when he's angry, though."

I looked at his huge hands, "He sculpts?"

"He's one of the best in the school," Pepper said cheerily. The bell rang and we headed to American History.

Pepper kept chattering, and I indulged with a few grunts or "yeahs". Surprisingly, she seemed pretty popular. I don't know why, she didn't seem exceptional in anything. How wrong I was in my thinking. I sat down in the back and Pepper sat to the side of me. The new boy, Cody sat in front of me and turned around.

"Hey, I'm Cody," he said in a friendly tone. His green eyes showed he was excited.

"Ceci," I returned.

"Have we met before?" he asked, studying me.

"I saw you at the Parent Meeting," I said with a smile. In my peripheral vision I saw Pepper trying to hide a smile. I scowled, I wasn't here to make friends. He saw the scowl and looked discouraged. Thankfully, I didn't have to say anything. I was saved by the bell , so to speak. My first class in three years had started.

**A/N: REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! :)**


End file.
